


A Treehouse for Cyril (ON HIATUS)

by Ren_Maisley



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Female My Unit | Byleth, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, Mostly Gen, On Hiatus, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Slapstick, Swearing, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:08:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22806850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ren_Maisley/pseuds/Ren_Maisley
Summary: The Blue Lions attempt to build a treehouse for Cyril’s birthday gift. But with Sylvain running the project, there is little hope for success.
Relationships: Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Kudos: 17





	A Treehouse for Cyril (ON HIATUS)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic: feedback is appreciated
> 
> This story isn't supposed to be serious, just a wacky little scenario. Characters and descriptions are exaggerated, and it's a bit self-aware. I was inspired to make Byleth really weird and chill because of the various FE3H Vine compilations on YouTube. I hope you like it!

It was a bright and beautiful morning at Garreg Mach Monastery. The yawning and stretching Blue Lions were lined up side-by-side in various degrees of dress as a certain red-haired skirt chaser paced back and forth in front of them. He addressed the group, his voice excited and engaged.

“Alright Blue Crew, up and at ‘em! We got a mission today: priority level 6.”  


Confused looks were exchanged among the student Lions.  


“But isn’t _tomorrow _our day off?” Annette whispered to a dozing Mercedes. While Annette was in full uniform, Mercedes was still in her pajamas. “And since when have we had ‘priority levels’ in our missions?”  
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Felix “Edgelord” Fraldarius has never been able to deal with Sylvain’s antics, especially this early in the morning, so he moved in as swift as a sword strike.  


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“Sylvain, why exactly did you get all of us up this early in the morning?” Felix asked. “Tell me now or I’ll leave. Actually, I’ll stab you, and THEN I’ll leave.” The edgy boi’s fingers tapped at the dagger strapped to his side, itching to draw. It appears that Felix slept with it on, or deemed it a priority to bring with him, even though he was still wearing his nightshirt.  


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“Whoa, whoa, no need to be hasty now,” Sylvain yelped, putting his arms up protectively. Like Annette, he was fully dressed and ready to work.  


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“And, if I may ask, Sylvain,” Ashe said, raising the sleeve of his hoodie above his head in accordance with his question. “Why isn’t our professor or His Highness briefing us on this mission?”  


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All eyes fell upon the uniform-clad blond boi.  


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“While this is regretful to admit, I’m afraid that I too am in the dark about this alleged mission,” Dimitri said, his eyebrows raised high. “I was told we didn’t have a mission this month because of The Battle of the Eagle and Lion, but perhaps our professor has been informed of an emergency assignment of some sort…?” All eyes shifted onto the young woman.  


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Byleth was crouched low to the ground, her bare knees caked with dirt, trying to pull the caps off of the acorns scattered on the ground. She shot a quick glance at the group; a rogue acorn was clenched between her teeth. Byleth blinked once and then continued on with her laborious work.  


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“Our lovely teacher is… indisposed at the moment.” Sylvain explained, quickly stepping in front of the prone professor. “Class is also canceled one day early. I am the one briefing you all because I am this mission’s client! Well, actually, I’m the half-client.”  


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Everyone was stunned for a moment. That’s when the uniformed Dedue, always a hard man to throw (both literally and figuratively) posed everyone’s third-most dire question (the first and second-most dire being “huh?” and “what?” respectively): “Who is the other half-client?”  


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Sylvain answered without missing a beat. “Why, it’s our little friend Cyril!” Sylvain said with a grin. “It’s his birthday today.” After another brief silence, Ingrid decided she was done talking in circles and went on the offensive.  


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“Okay Sylvain,” the horse gril said irritably, her eyes squinting against the rising sun’s gleam. Ingrid was still dressed in her nightclothes, but her disapproving attitude toward Sylvain was armed to the teeth. “It is weirdly considerate for you, of all people, to remember Cyril’s birthday number one; and number two, is our mission to get Cyril a birthday present? Because if so, you can do that all by your lonesome; there was absolutely no need to wake ANY of us up at the crack of dawn! We need to prepare for the Battle!” Ingrid could not keep the venom out of her voice, but Sylvain remained unperturbed.  


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“On the contrary, beautiful, it just so happens that I DO need everyone’s help. Why, you ask? Because Cyril’s gift is going to be…” Sylvain spread his arms wide, gesturing toward a heap of logs and wooden planks next to a tree of questionable sturdiness, along with two toolboxes and a half-empty bottle of wine. “A treehouse!” Sylvain looked expectantly at his fellow Blue Lions, waiting for his applause.  


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Sylvain was instead met with yet another deafening round of silence (save for the professor’s teeth tapping against the acorn). The silence was broken when Mercedes decided to speak up in her sugary sweet voice, a small smile stuck on her lips: “Forgive me goddess, but why the fuck does it have to be a treehouse?”  


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“M-Mercie!” Annette sputtered, trying to rein in her shock. Sylvain’s handsome, gorgeous, sexy, smokin’ hot, lady-killin' face fell; he looked utterly disappointed.  


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“Well, I just thought the kid would like a treehouse to play in. Y’know, like a regular kid.”  


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“Ugh,” Ingrid groaned, putting her hand over her eyes, “Sylvain, have you even TALKED to Cyril? Do you even know if he’d like a gift like this?”  


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“Halt Ingrid.” Dimitri’s eyes were narrowed in concentration. He stepped out of line and planted his feet next to Sylvain. He studied his childhood friend, seemed to decide something in his head, and then faced the group lined up before him.  


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“My fellow Blue Lions, I think Sylvain deserves a round of applause.” Dimitri waited, his face expectant; Dedue began clapping obediently, his face stony and unreadable. Ashe and Annette joined in after a few moments, still deeply confused. Mercedes was clapping and laughing lightly, already zoned out again. Ingrid pulled a deep sigh and Felix gritted his teeth, his fingers twitching faster than ever.  


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“My friends, Sylvain has just shown exemplary knight behavior.” Ingrid’s jaw fell to the ground; Dimitri continued, “He has reminded us that a knight’s job isn’t just to keep our citizens safe, it is also to give them peace of mind. And with this treehouse, we give not only Cyril, but all the children of the monastery a place of play, and a place of refuge.”  


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Annette and Ashe were transfixed, soaking in every word; Ingrid looked less skeptical, and even Felix’s fingers relaxed. Sylvain, failing to look modest, wore a toothy smile and held a double thumbs-up. Dimitri continued once more, a broad smile adorning his face.  


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“So I say that even though our competition is right around the corner, I will help my friend build this treehouse for the sake of the children. I will hammer, and saw, and build until this structure is complete! And then—”  


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“Hold on there Your Highness,” Sylvain interrupted. “I have a different job for you. You won’t be working on the treehouse.”  


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Dimitri’s voice died in his throat. He turned back to look upon Sylvain’s entirely serious face and tried to find his voice.  


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“B-But Sylvain! I thought you needed all of our help—”  


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“And I do!” Sylvain assured him, his hand grasping Dimitri’s shoulder. “But your job will be to _distract _Cyril all day and keep him away from this area. You and Dedue will do-do that.”  
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Dimitri gulped. “Well, how would you have us distract him?”  


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Ingrid made a strangled noise. “Your Highness, you're going to do as he says?”  


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“Just make him a cup of tea and talk about the archbishop. Anything like that.” Sylvain softly slapped Dimitri's cheek a couple of times and then pushed him away (Dedue’s body tensed up as he witnessed this transgression). “Go! Now! Quickly! Say hello to Cyril for us!” With one last look of helplessness, Dimitri called off his near-growling vassal and led him in the direction of Cyril’s sleeping quarters.  


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Looking highly satisfied, Sylvain sized up his remaining forces. “Alrighty… Mercedes shouldn’t be in possession of any tools on account of her… overeager efforts,'' Sylvain soliloquized softly, his eyes downcast, betraying extensive concentration. “His Highness told me about her incident with the sword, after all.” He looked up and addressed the Lions. “Okay! Mercedes will be on lunch duty! The rest of us will build.” Sylvain thrust his fist toward the group. “Ready? Break!” He shot his fist into the air and turned on his heels, marching toward the toolboxes.  


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Ingrid shot a desperate look at Felix and began following Sylvain toward the supplies. The ginger stud was humming merrily, unconcerned by the incomprehension glazing most of the students’ faces (Mercedes had skipped toward the dining hall even before Sylvain’s dismissal). Ingrid thought she might have to resort to pleading.  


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“ _Sylvain _,” she said crossly. “Listen! If- if we are building this treehouse, why did you send away the strongest people to distract Cyril? You know full well Annette could talk his ear off much longer than His Highness, or… _Dedue _.” Ingrid grimaced at the mention of the Duscur man.  
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“ _Ingrid _,” Sylvain mimicked the blonde’s tone. “Our professor conceded the extra day of class on the condition that we get some form of training out of it.” They both shifted their eyes at Byleth; she was putting the successfully secured acorn caps on the tips of her fingers, quietly giggling at the sight of it. “While we toughen up our muscles, His Highness and Dedue can sharpen their, uh, diplomacy skills.” Ingrid started to protest, but Sylvain put a finger to her lips. “Shhh. Don’t worry. No amount of dirt and grime can mask your magnificent beauty.” With a tap of his finger on Ingrid’s nose, Sylvain turned and once again set out towards the tools.  
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Ingrid stood there, her face flushed deep red, from both anger and embarrassment. It looked as though steam was about to emit from her ears. Felix regarded her with amusement. “How pathetic,” he drawled.  


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“Later…” Ingrid mumbled. “I’ll hit him… later.”  


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“Sylvain!” Ashe called. He and Annette were crouched down, looking at the bottle of wine. Both seemed afraid to touch it; Annette was poking it cautiously with a stick. “Why is _this _here?”  
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Sylvain looked up from the toolbox he was examining and snorted. “Why, to drink to Cyril’s health, of course!”

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End file.
